what the deer carry

not ticks, but tiny gems with knobby black legs. not lyme disease but something psychological, something unimaginable to the unbitten. the sparkle in their fur not for fingers or necks but for your blood. once bitten, victims may start to glow; they may shake uncontrollably; they may keen and cry out for their ancestors. they may go to the kitchen. they may come back with a knife.

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About Cassandra de Alba

Cassandra de Alba is a grad student in the greater Boston area. Her work has appeared in Skydeer Helpking, The Nervous Breakdown, and Vector Press, among others. She can be found online at outsidewarmafghans.tumblr.com and @cassandraintroy.
View all posts by Cassandra de Alba

This entry was posted on Wednesday, April 6th, 2016 at 4:21 am and tagged with 30/30 and posted in Poetry. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed.

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